


Hair and Fringes

by Amariahellcat



Series: Arisa Shepard [1]
Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Biotic Shepard, F/M, Garrus makes it better, Insecurity, Mass Effect 2, Paragon Commander Shepard, Pre-Relationship, Shepard is insecure about her hair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2017-08-07
Packaged: 2018-12-12 09:43:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11734458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amariahellcat/pseuds/Amariahellcat
Summary: Arisa Shepard had never though she was vain… but her hairs always been a point of pride, and having it stay determinedly short was a pain.Till a certain Turian changes her mind.





	Hair and Fringes

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys. So all of these have already been posted on Tumblr - I just realized I should stop being lazy and collect them over here, to.
> 
> Also, I like just now realized how close my Shepard and Ryder's names are to each other, oops. ttly not on purpose I swear @_@
> 
> Simple start off, nothing heavy here.

Arisa had never been vain.

Even before joining the Alliance, she’d never bothered with makeup, fancy clothes or modifications.

She’d had better things to do. Kicking ass, proving herself in her training.

Rising to Spectre and taking down a Reaper.

It’s only after Cerberus brings her back from the dead and her hair refuses to grow that she realizes she  _had_ , maybe, been slightly vain.

Her hair had always been long and thick, brilliant crimson red that curled around her ears and drew stares no matter where she went. Sure, she’d kept it tied back almost 24/7, but it had been there, had always been long.

Now… now, it was still crimson red, still curly and thick, as far as she could tell.

But it wouldn’t grow. Wouldn’t extend past a rough pixie cut - and while it didn’t look terrible, she supposed, the woman looking back in the mirror wasn’t  _her_.

There hadn’t been any time, during her near comatose two years of being rebuilt - constant surgeries and reassessments had required constant shaving, baring the scars she could  _still_  feel on the back of her skull.

Miranda had apologized over and over, the first time she’d caught Shepard starring in the mirror - and Arisa had regretted letting herself be caught in the women’s bathroom, obsessing over her hair like a teenager, wishing she’d restrained herself till she was safely in her private cabin.

It wasn’t Miranda’s fault and she’d assumed, falsely, that given time, her hair would grow.

Now, four months later and no longer than it had been, Arisa wonders if it ever  _will_  start growing again.

The scars don’t bother her - never had, new or old - she still wore little makeup, wore a simple set of civvies on board the Normandy, typical N7 armor updated with a few stripes of a certain  _blue_  - and yet she always came back to the hair.

_I don’t look like myself._

She could’ve mentioned it to Chakwas, maybe - the doctor might have had a suggestion for getting over it - but Arisa hated seeming weak, in any regard, and so she kept her mouth shut.

Arisa had taken to running her fingers through the short strands and gripping, nearly yanking, in an almost unconscious attempt to make them longer. Stupid and pointless but somehow she always found herself doing it, never seeming to draw any attention -

-until Garrus caught her doing it.

“What are you doing?”

Arisa shifted her gaze, eyebrows lifting at the Turian standing on the other side of the table giving her an odd look.

“…sitting down?” she quipped, confused, wondering what he  _thought_  she was doing.

Even with the differences in species and expression, it’s obvious when he sighs, shaking his head, “Why are you yanking at your fringe?”

She starts, cursing and whipping her hand from her head, the motion so habitual she hadn’t even realized she was doing it. She sits staring at the table for a moment, hands clenching against the surface, scowling.

Garrus only continues to watch her, crossing his arms and waiting for an explanation.

“…it won’t grow.” she finally explains, lamely.

Garrus blinks. “And…  _yanking_  on it will help?”

“No. I just…” she huffs, forces herself to continue, “..it  _bothers_  me, Garrus. I don’t feel like myself.”

“What, because your fringe is shorter than it was?”

“My  _hair_.” she corrects simply, drumming her nails against the table, “With all the enhancements Cerberus did, you’d  _think_  my hair would be fine. The fact that it isn’t the same is annoying.”

“Well, I think it suits you.”

Arisa freezes, looks up, and stares.

Garrus stares back.

“…come again?” she asks, watching his face this time.

“It. Suits. You.” he pronounces each word slowly, drawing them out, smirking infuriatingly at the end of his sentence, “Catch that, Shepard?”

“Watch it, Vakarian.” Arisa grins back, keeping control, “Did you just  _compliment_  me? Wow.”

Garrus just shrugs, “It’s true.”

And there, she feels that slight giddiness rising; the same one that had started when they’d found him on Omega, continuing when he’d proven a rocket to the face couldn’t take him down and that he was at her side for the long haul, no matter what.

She doesn’t blush - has long since learned how to conceal  _that_ pesky reaction - but her heart beats a little quicker, and old feelings she’d pushed aside rise back up.

Because she’s been given a second chance at life, and maybe, just maybe, a chance she hadn’t had before, with him.

They part ways with another few jabs, their typical banter, and it’s only a few days later when Arisa notices the change.

She doesn’t mind the short hair anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments make my day ♥


End file.
